


Need A Hand?

by KissingWinchesters



Series: YouKnowTheyAreBrothers Blog [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, First Time Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, troubles getting off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissingWinchesters/pseuds/KissingWinchesters
Summary: “I’m broken, Sammy. Finished.”“What have you done?”





	Need A Hand?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merakieros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merakieros/gifts).



> The original work on [TUMBLR](http://youknowtheyarebrothers.tumblr.com/post/132900223145/need-a-hand)

“Dean, what’s going on with you?”

Sam puts his book down on his bedside table and waits. Dean’s stomping footsteps have stopped, and after a few seconds he appears in the doorway.

“What?”

“You’ve been in a mood for a week.”

Dean’s mouth presses into a thin line, his feet suddenly restless like he’s going to bolt.

“I have not,” Dean grumbles, but there’s no heat in it, like he can’t be bothered to lie convincingly, like he wants Sam to push him into telling him what’s wrong.

“Get in here,” Sam orders, swinging his legs off the bed so he’s perched on the edge.

Dean scowls, but does as he’s told. This is awful, terrible, the worst thing that’s happened to Dean his whole life!

Ok, no, that’s really not true. At all. But, right now, this… thing, is the only thing in Dean’s universe and he’s going out of his mind because of it.

He paces next to Sam, refusing to sit, his body taught like he’s going into a fight or something.

“I’m broken, Sammy. Finished.”

Sam stiffens, eyes changing from curiously amused to concerned. He grabs Dean’s wrist, spins him, gets him to stand still.

“What have you done?”

Dean removes his wrist from Sam’s grip, circling his fingers around it like he’s been burned.

“I haven’t DONE anything, bitch. That’s the point. I can’t. I’m broken. It’s broken.”

Sam frowns, lines deepening in his forehead as he tries to figure out what Dean is on about. He swears, sometimes it’s like living with the riddler.

“Are you talking about the Impala? She was running fine yesterday and…”

“No, no, no,” Dean interrupts, flailing his arms in the air like an injured bird trying to take flight. “There’s nothing wrong with my Baby. It’s me.”

Sam is seriously worried now. He tries to remember if Dean looked sick this past week and he was to stupid to notice. Dean would wait for a limb to fall off before he asked Sam to take him to hospital.

“I can’t keep guessing, Dean,” Sam huffs, frustrated. “Just tell me.”

“It’s my dick, ok? It won’t work!”

Sam’s mouth drops open, a laugh desperately seeking permission to burst out of him. Of all the things that he’d thought up, this was not what he’d been expecting to have put Dean in such a grump. He should have known really.

“Uh, you mean… like when you go to the bathroom or…?”

Dean kicks the edge of the bed and bites down in his lip. His face is flushed and Sam, without knowing why exactly, maybe just because they’re talking about Dean’s junk, glances down. He can’t conceal his shock at the obvious bulge between Dean’s legs.

“I thought you said it was broken,” Sam blurts out, pointing at Dean’s cock.

Dean slaps his hand away and starts pacing again, groaning like he’s just swallowed razor blades.

“I can’t get off, Sam! I’ve tried, fucking nearly burst a blood vessel trying, but… It just won’t, and I can’t, and I’m so damn horny I can’t see straight, and I think this is what’ll kill me. Not vamps, not demons, not any of the douchebags we go after… Dean Winchester Jr, being defective, that’s what’s gonna get me, Sam.”

When Dean stops talking, he’s out of breath, panting like he’s just done a hundred meters sprint. He’s still hard, Sam can’t help but still notice, but the fight has gone out of him. He looks defeated. Lost.

Sam sighs, putting the fact that Dean calls his dick Dean Winchester Jr aside for now, and focusing on the bigger issue.

“Dean, c'mon, you’re stressed. You’re not broken.”

“This hasn’t ever happened before. I’m not as young as I used to be, man.” Dean’s shoulders sag and he won’t meet Sam’s eye. “I want to come so bad, Sam.”

Sam ducks his head. He can’t believe they’re talking about this. Dean must be unbelievably frustrated if he’s saying shit like this without calling Sam “Samantha” and making a joke of it. When he starts pacing again, Sam clenches his hands into fists and let’s out a breath.

“Sit down, would you? You’re making me dizzy.”

Dean drops down on the mattress next to Sam, arms folded across his chest like a child that’s been scolded.

“What have… um, what have you tried?”

Dean looks at Sam out of the corner of his eye, the tips of his ears getting darker by the minute.

“Jesus, um, everything. I can get it up, but whatever I do I can’t, you know.”

“Hmm.” Sam nods, chewing on his lip. An idea is creeping around his thoughts.

“I even tried…” Dean stands up suddenly, tries to leave, but Sam stops him.

“Tried what?”

“This is stupid, Sam. Forget it.”

When Dean tries to leave again, Sam stands up and blocks the door.

“I want to help, alright. You’re my brother, you can talk to me about anything, you know that.”

Dean looks up, swallowing hard enough that his throat clicks. He moves around Sam to sit back down, covering his erection as best he can with his arm.

“This is such bullshit, Sam. I’ve been stressed pretty much my whole life, I’ve never had this happen before. Dean Winchester Jr never lets me down.”

Sam bites his tongue, desperate not to laugh. Dean would probably punch him and then leave if he did.

“Tell me what you’ve tried. Before, you were going to say something.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Didn’t work.”

Sam folds his arms, mirroring Dean, and gives him his best bitch face. If they’re doing this talking thing, Sam needs all the information. He lifts his eyebrows and waits until Dean sighs and gives in.

“I put my fingers in my ass.” Dean groans again, some might say over dramatically, but Sam can tell that Dean is horrified by his predicament. “Thought maybe It’d work when I was jerking off, but no dice.”

“Dean, maybe it’s because it’s you?”

Dean frowns at him, so Sam continues quickly.

“I just mean, you’re always under so much pressure, it’s not really surprising that you can’t relax enough to, uh, to do that. There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“It’s not like I’m ever not going to be fucking stressed though, Sammy. How we live, what we do… Oh fuck, what if I can’t get off ever again?”

Sam frowns harder, the idea in his head buzzing louder. It’s wild, dangerous maybe, but that doesn’t seem to matter because the next thing he knows, Sam is spilling.

“I’ll do it.”

“Huh?” Dean looks genuinely puzzled.

“Just hear me out. You can’t relax, you can’t… it’s not working. But, maybe someone else’s hands on you? It could?”

Dean’s mouth drops open in surprise, but he stays where he is on the bed, doesn’t move away.

“Say no if you don’t want me to. We can forget I even mentioned it.” Sam slides his hand around Dean’s elbow and squeezes. “I want to help.”

“Sam,” Dean says, the word sounding strained, desperate.

Moving his hand up, Sam touches the slope of Dean’s shoulder, easing him back so that he’s half lying down on the bed.

“Let me. It’s ok, Dean.”

Sam’s hand stills over Dean’s heart, it’s beating so fiercely that Sam can feel it pounding against his palm.

“Sam…”

“It’s ok,” Sam repeats, pulling Dean’s shirt up to reveal the top button of his jeans.

Dean’s hips lift up slightly, the movement only emphasising the state he’s is in. Sam ignores it for now, focusing only on keeping his hands steady as he starts to undo the button, pulling down the fly, the metallic sound so loud in the room.

“You have to tell me that it’s ok, Dean. You have to say it.”

Sam looks at Dean through his hair, not realising how low he’d arched himself over his brothers body, poised on the edge of a cliff for Dean to throw them both over.

“Yeah, it’s ok.” Dean’s legs widen, his cock pushing up through the gaping front of his jeans, the cotton of his boxers damp. “Please… Sam, I need it. Please.”

Sam shushes him, keeps one hand braced on Dean’s stomach, his other reaching into Dean’s briefs, fingers brushing the head of his cock and down the shaft.

“Ohh,” Dean breathes, head lolling back against Sam’s pillow, his whole body seeming to melt as Sam pulls him out completely, tucking his balls under the elastic.

“Feel good?” Sam tightens his grip on Dean’s cock, stroking it in the same way he would his own.

“Yeah. Keep going.”

Sam does, twisting his hand when he gets to the ridge of Dean’s cock head, pleased when Dean hisses his pleasure.

“Come on, Dean. You got this. Let it go.”

“Do not quote that awful Disney film to me when your hand is on my dick. Fuck, faster… Want it faster. God, I’m close, Sammy.”

Sam can’t help but laugh. He swirls his thumb against the slit, gathering precome, but it’s not enough. He needs something more. Without hesitating, Sam lets Dean go, his cock slapping against the crease of his thigh.

“No, what’re you..? Oh.”

Dean’s eyes widen. Sam has his hand up to his mouth, licking a long stripe of saliva against his skin. It’s without doubt the hottest thing Dean has seen in his life.

“Oh, fuck, Sam… Come on. Touch me.”

Repositioning himself on the bed, Sam takes a better hold of Dean, determined in his task now that he can feel how close his brother is. A part Sam knows that he’s hard now too, throbbing, but this is about Dean. Just about Dean.

“How long has it been?” Sam asks, taking his brother in hand again, curling his fingers around him and spreading the wetness over his searing hot skin. “How long?”

“Too long, Jesus… Sam, please.”

“Just this week or longer? How long since you last blew your load, huh?”

Dean’s stomach clenches, a blurt of precome leaking out onto Sam’s fingers.

“Oh, fuck yes…” Dean bites his lip, blood red turning white under the pressure. His hand, gripping the sheets, suddenly covers Sam’s, grinding them down as Dean thrusts upwards. “A month.”

A month? Christ, it’s a shock that Dean hasn’t killed anyone. Sam nudges Dean’s jeans open further, yanking them down, his hand that’s not pumping Dean’s cock furiously, rolling over his balls, pulling at them.

“Oh yeah,” Dean gasps.

“Not gonna be much longer, ok? I’ll make you come.”

He slips his fingers under Dean’s balls, searching for the tight opening just below. Dean might have tried this before, but there’s nothing quite like the feeling of someone else touching you, stretching you. He’s not going to push in like he wants to, they haven’t got lube, and Sam is not going to hurt Dean, so he takes his finger away, swirls it in his mouth before massaging Dean’s hole with just the right amount of pressure.

Dean is thrashing on the bed, his hand digging almost painfully into Sam’s, his cock, dark and wet, stuttering through their combined fingers.

“Fuck,” Sam says, barely able to look away from their joined hands.

“Put… Put it in me, please.”

Begging is like kryptonite to Sam, and he can’t deny that he wants to see what happens if he does it. He wishes there was lube to hand, because sinking his whole finger into Dean’s ass is something he didn’t know he wanted until now.

“Please, Sam,” Dean asks again, back arched off the bed. “So good. So good to me, baby boy.”

Hearing those words has Sam close to coming in his pants. He closes his eyes for a second, sweat clinging under his arms and at his hairline. Dean is clenching against his finger, and Sam can’t help it, he presses down, opening Dean up and letting his fingertip disappear just to the base of his nail.

It seems to be enough. Dean moans, long and low, and Sam wrenches his head up just in time to see Dean’s face as he comes. Eyes tight closed, mouth open, Adam’s apple bobbing along the sweat slick column of his throat.

“Sam.” Dean shakes violently, his muscles screaming with the rush of his orgasm. He’s panting hard, but he can’t stop thrusting into Sam’s loose hand, clenching around the tip of his finger, chasing every shockwave that races through him.

Eventually, Dean regains his senses, and Sam pulls his hands away gently, slumping back onto his calf’s. It should be awkward really, they’re brothers. But it isn’t. Or at least not for Sam. Dean, well, Sam isn’t so sure.

“Better?” Sam asks, trying out a smile like what he’s just done isn’t a big deal, hasn’t changed everything.

Dean threads his fingers into his own hair and laughs. He sounds content, the gritty, simmering anger he’s had in him recently completely gone.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “much better.” Sitting up, Dean puts his hand on Sam’s thigh. “Thank you.”

Sam licks his lips, aware of just how close Dean’s hand is to his cock.

“No problem.” Sam smiles again, but he’s nervous, like their roles have reversed.

Dean observes him, green eyes dark, thinking. He looks down, first at the smear of come on Sam’s hand, and then at the outline of Sam’s cock, the way Sam is shaking.

“Tell me it’s ok, Sammy,” Dean says, rolling his lip through his teeth, eyes hungry now, focused on Sam’s crotch.

Sam inhales sharply, nodding because he can’t speak, can’t do anything but plead with his eyes for Dean to touch him. Dean’s hand slides up Sam’s thigh, curling over the bulge of Sam’s dick and squeezing.

“Say it,” Dean demands, hand still squeezing lightly, but not going further.

“It’s ok,” Sam manages to grit out. He reaches out, clinging to Dean’s arms, tugging at his shirt so that he doesn’t fall backwards off the bed.

Dean grins, a flash of teeth before it’s gone, those plump lips parted as he rubs Sam’s erection, hand kneading his brother through his jeans. He wishes Sam was wearing pyjama pants so that he could see his cock more clearly, stretch the material over it, see it darken with Sam’s precome. Wishes he had time to pull Sam out, feel how hot he is, how hard, how perfect.

“Come for me, baby,” Dean says, voice a whisper as he pushes their foreheads together. Sam’s hips thrust up against Dean’s hand, and just like Dean did, he threads their fingers together, the added pressure all Sam needed to come, hard.

“Ahh, fuck… Fuck, Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy. Good boy, that’s it.”

Dean continues to stroke Sam, running his thumb nail through the come that soaks through. Sam looks up, chest heaving, his whole body feeling heavy and sated. Before he can stop himself, he leans in, brushing his lips against Dean’s in a ghost of a kiss.

Dean grabs the back of Sam’s neck, keeping him close, and brings their mouths together again, kissing him deeper, but with a tenderness that makes Sam’s heart skip.

When they part, Dean is smiling, and Sam can’t resist kissing him again, his tongue snaking between his brothers lips, the taste of him making Sam bold, reckless. He’d wanted to help Dean, it’s all he ever wants, but this… Maybe they’ll both end up with something more than either of them intended.

They kiss for a while, not caring much about the uncomfortable sticky feeling of drying come on both of them. Dean eases Sam down so that they’re lying side by side on the bed, wraps his arms around him, one knee tucked high between Sam’s legs.

“That was incredible, Sam. Who knew you had it in you?” Dean laughs against Sam’s lips.

“I didn’t know I did,” Sam replies, running his hand up Dean’s neck to his jaw. “We ok?”

“Fuck yes, we’re ok. More than ok.”

“Good,” Sam says, sighing. “I feel kinda gross though.”

Dean gasps in mock horror, and Sam laughs and squeezes Dean against his chest.

“Not that kind of gross. Believe it or not, sleeping with my brother isn’t very high on the list of strange things I’ve done in my life.”

“Oh, so now I’m strange? Sam, you sure know how to woo a guy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam says, kissing Dean’s temple, just because he can.

“Wanna shower? I really want to get you out of those clothes.”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles. “And I really want you to explain to me why you call your penis Dean Winchester Jr? What are you, five?”

Dean tilts his head back and frown glares at his brother.

“What else am I going to call him?”

“Him?!” Sam untangles their legs and gets his hand around Dean’s wrist, pulling him up and off the bed.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, like he’s the rational one of the two of them.

“You are such a child, Dean. And yet I’m not really surprised.”

They walk towards the door to Sam’s bathroom, Dean’s wandering hands undoing Sam’s jeans as they walk.

“Come on. Let me see if Sam Winchester Jr has another round in him.”

“Oh my god,” Sam moans, turning around in Dean’s arms to kiss him quiet.

Dean pulls back, licking his lips and pushing Sam’s hand against his groin.

“No, not God. Dean Winchester Jr. But, close enough, Sammy.”


End file.
